


decay feeds the bloom

by zoophobic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoophobic/pseuds/zoophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jade Harley, and you've only ever been in love three times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	decay feeds the bloom

**Author's Note:**

> i gave davepetasprite a human name (adrian) since this is humanstuck and like... whod name their kid davepeta. if youre into that, im sorry.

    Your name is Jade Harley, and you’ve only ever been in love three times.

    The first time was with Dave Strider. You were fourteen, and dated for about three months before you and he mutually broke it off. You still love him, but you’re not  _ in _ love with him, and certainly not in any romantic way. He’s dating some boy named Karkat now (Karkat Vantas, the very same kid you had a fistfight with in the tenth grade), and they’re sickeningly sweet.

    The second time was with Rose Lalonde and Kanaya Maryam, who should be considered as two, but you only count as one because it was at the same time and you really were only in love with Rose. Kanaya was lovely, too, but Rose was something like the sun, and, d _ amn _ , if you can’t help yourself around stars. You were all eighteen, and you dated Rose for a day, then technically dated both of them for another week, before you realized that maybe they weren’t exactly what you wanted. You never told them, but you felt like a third wheel. Instead, you claimed that maybe this wasn’t in their best interests, and that was okay. They let you go. They’re engaged, now, and they’re elegance embodied. Rose and Kanaya are great together, even if you still feel hints of resent every time you see them. It’s okay, though. It’s always okay.

    The third time, you think, is happening right at this very moment.

    As of right now, you are twenty-one years old, sitting atop the Felt Manor, laying against the tiled roof with one Adrian Sprite at your side.

    You think of everything that led up to this point, and figure you should offer an explanation.

    It all started with said Adrian appearing at one of Dave’s photography classes in your freshman year of college. Now, as Dave eagerly recounted to you, Rose, and John at his place that evening, he and Adrian immediately disliked each other. Partially because they were both wearing shades, and Dave knew that anyone wearing shades was an ironic asshole, and they couldn’t have two of those in one class, could they? So Dave confronted Adrian, and they ended up sharing a coke outside while discussing how boring that photography lecture had been. Dave then goes on to explain how “cool” and “ironically dorky” Adrian was, and if you didn’t know how head over heels he was for Karkat, you’d think he had a crush.

    A few days after that, Dave invited Adrian to lunch with you and John, and even you had to admit he has good taste. Adrian wore shades (shaped more like cat-eye glasses) and a light green beanie that formed a sharp contrast against their ginger hair. You’d say they resemble Dave, but you can immediately see they’re incredibly different. Adrian’s lips were twisted into a wicked smile, as if they know something you don’t, whereas Dave’s loose expression won’t reveal anything unless he wants it to (you’ve always had a knack for knowing people, you think. Not as polished as Rose’s, but a knack nonetheless). Over the course of pizza, you learned three things about Adrian, being: (1) they find most animals very interesting and cool, but spiders are just plain strange, (2) their favorite color alternates between bright orange and light green, and (3) their every vague word leaves room for more explanations they never give, which makes them all the more enticing.

    After this, John decides he doesn’t particularly like Adrian (says they’re too strange, too vague), and frowns every time you or Dave mentioned them.

    The next time you meet Adrian is at a small party Roxy hosts, where they’re standing off to the side, earbuds snaking into their beanie (orange, this time, their other favorite color, and you pride yourself about remembering) and bobbing their head along to whatever they were listening to. You had sunk against the wall beside them, and, beaming at you, they took out one earbud and passed it along to you. The two of you eventually perched on the balcony railing outside, you grinning at them and paying little attention to the punk rock music that blasted through the earbuds. That night, before you part ways, they give you their phone number.  _ for emergencies <3 _ , they had scribbled beneath it, in scrawling, tall letters. Their handwriting is big, just like their personality is, you remember thinking, a smile stretching across your lips.

    Jade Harley and Adrian Sprite become a lot closer over the month of October.

    You meet them at an ice cream parlor, once, and you both talk about issues in the LGBTQIA+ community, racial issues, the like. They were wearing a short skirt and tights that did their legs favors, and they walk you home that day, and you wished you could be as open in identity as they were. There’s a flutter in your stomach when you lock the apartment door behind you, and you grinned. Full-out grinned.

    Meetings grew in both frequency and length between the two of you, until a day in November, when you’re both sitting at a coffee shop, and they invited you over. There was a tightening in your chest, as though someone had tied strings around your ribs and was pulling on them.

    You agreed breathlessly, not without heat having risen to your cheeks.

    Adrian’s home turned out to be a three-room apartment they shared with two siblings, and when you got there, they introduced one boy, sitting on the couch and tapping at his Mac, as “Ronnie,” and another kid reading a textbook as, “Jasp.” You then retreat into their room, when you settle atop their bed. Adrian picked up their laptop, settled it on the bed before them, and you ended up resting your head on their shoulder, watching Parks and Recreation with wide grins and brushing hands.

    At the end of the night, at around eleven o’ clock, you began grabbing your stuff, preparing to leave, when Adrian took your wrist (gently, pleadingly) and  _ kissed  _ you. Like, the questioning, gentle sort of kiss that made both parties wonder whether or not it’s really what they needed. Internally, you panicked, but externally, you softly pushed Adrian away.

    Adrian Sprite was in love with you at age twenty, and you were not.

    You explained this to them, and they nodded, apologized, seemed genuinely regretful. You didn’t bring it up again, which is probably why you didn’t meet them face-to-face again for the entire month of November.

    On November thirtieth (i.e.  _ today _ ), Adrian invited you via text to meet them at a pizza parlor for birthday’s eve shenanigans. You have always been a lover of fun, and you agreed. The two of you met at the place at around seven thirty, and you had pizza. You both talked about stuff, like Dave’s photography and how Adrian’s art classes had been going and whether or not you had finished working out that theory. You both did not talk about other stuff, such as Adrian’s kissing you and your explanation.

     When Adrian gets up to use the restroom (yay for family bathrooms, they say with a forced laugh), you push down the butterflies in your stomach, reminding yourself that you are  _ not  _ in love with Adrian Sprite, and that even if you were, you blew that a long time ago.

     Adrian, wearing the beanie they wore the first time you met (the same skinny jeans, the same flannel, the same everything, you realize, and you wonder if that means anything), asks you if you want to get out of there, maybe home, and without thinking, you tell them that, no, you want to do something  _ fun _ , because it’s nine forty-five the night before your birthday.

    They grin (that same glorious grin they usually wear, except, this time, it looks  _ real _ ), take your wrist, and guide you to their car.

    You let them drive you wherever it is the two of you are going, resting your chin in your palm and staring out the window. About fifteen minutes into the ride, Adrian rolls down the windows, cranks up the music, and two college kids with nothing (but student loans and their own internalized issues) weighing them down belt out lyrics to songs they hardly know, because it is ten thirty at night and you have no clue where you’re going. They know, though, and you think that’s all that really matters.

    At ten fifty, Adrian pulls the car off into the matted grass to the side of a dirt road, rolls down the windows, and turns off the engine. You both sit in silence, breathless and ecstatic, before they push open the driver’s door, then come to your side to open yours. You and they stomp through the grass to reach the road, follow it for a good five minutes, then reach a large black gate. It looks locked, but Adrian gives it a firm push, and it opens, just wide enough for you to slip in. 

    You wonder if this is illegal.

    You’re not sure you care if it is.

    You and Adrian are approaching a large mansion, and they take your hand (you try to ignore how nice and warm their hand feels against yours) and lead you around to the back. There, you see a trellis scaling the back wall. Adrian explains that’s how you’ll be getting to the roof.

    They climb it first, taking care to make all the spaces. Any decorational plants that grew around it have long since died, which makes you sad, but the winding vines creeping up the sides give it a sense of forlorn genuity that makes it endearing (to the point where you’re tempted to compare it to Adrian themself). A reckless soul at heart, you follow as soon as they make it halfway, and at approximately eleven ten, the two of you are laying across the top of a seemingly abandoned mansion, out of breath but so  _ happy _ .

    The emotion is foreign. It’s weird. You like it.

    After a few minutes of huffing and puffing and practically blowing the house down, you both laugh. You don’t know why either of you are laughing, because this is probably against dozens of laws and you’re probably going to jail, but there’s a squeeze in your chest when you catch glimpse of Adrian and you just feel so light. That’s strange. You’re always carrying some weight. Always doing something next. But now it is (according to your phone) eleven twenty, the night before your birthday, and everything is okay.

    You roll onto your back, gaze drifting up to the stars above. You must be in the countryside, because in town, the stars are never this bright. Nor are there this many of them. You think of Becquerel, and how much he’d love it out here. It’s an open space. You can feel the night breeze brushing your face.

    Silence has fallen over you, as you’re both now staring at the sky as though it can provide answers for everything.

    Normally you feel tired around now. Normally you always feel exhausted. But as exhilarating as this whole endeavor was, you feel like you could stay awake for days, if it was Adrian at your side. You think their name, and the squeeze in your chest is familiar to you. You suck in a breath, glance over at them, and notice they’ve taken off their shades.

    You realize you’ve never seen their eyes properly before, and you’re not sure why, because they’re a pretty kind of obsidian that you don’t think anyone should hide from the world. But you’re also not Adrian, so you don’t get a say in what to do with their eyes. You do, however, wish that they would look at you.

    They don’t.

    You look back to the sky. You don’t think this silence is uncomfortable.

    At eleven twenty-five (you check your phone for this, turning down the brightness because it’s uncomfortable in the dead of the night) they begin to talk.

    Adrian talks about anything, really- Dave, Roxy, photography, drawing, their place in their communities, their siblings. You could go on for hours just listening to their voice, if you were to be honest. Their voice is a melodious hum, and you wonder if anyone’s ever told them that. So you do, and they smile and fall silent again, and you notice how their freckles resemble the stars.

    It’s eleven fifty-six when you sit up. Seven minutes since Adrian stopped talking, you think. Alarmed, they sit up, too. They shouldn’t be alarmed.

    At eleven fifty-seven, they ask if anything’s wrong, if they should be concerned, if you’re okay. You pause to think, but you’re sure you know the answer.

    At eleven fifty-eight, you answer that a lot of things are wrong, but they shouldn’t be concerned about you, because you think you’re okay right now. 

    At eleven fifty-nine, you ask if you can kiss them. They nod once, their gorgeous eyes wide and unconcealed by glasses (yours still are, but you technically need yours to see).

    At midnight, you do kiss them. Softly, at first, then more passionate, but still not rough because you want to be cautious. It ends too soon, and that’s when you realize that you’re  _ in love _ .

    When Adrian pulls away, their gaze, dark and gentle, meets yours, their fingers still pressed against your cheek. You think that they’re in love with you, too.

    “Happy birthday, Jade,” they say, voice quiet. Their lips are so close to your own that you can feel their breath.

    You tell them, moments later, still gazing at one another, that you’re in love with them.

    You wonder if that’s moving too fast.

    They laugh silently, just the ghost of a movement, and tell you that they’re in love with you, too.

**Author's Note:**

> adrian = davepetasprite^2  
> ronnie = arquiusprite  
> jasp = jasprosesprite^2  
> i wrote this at 1am while fueled by sugar and caffeine, so if it sucks, that's probably why.  
> also my tumblr is @bluesjay if u want to come talk to me abt queer homestuck.  
> comments/kudos are much appreciated, and thank you for reading!!


End file.
